Chapter 25
The sun was going down, the danger of its cleansing rays gradually squelched by the dark protection of the shadowy night. Another day over. Another day closer to his goal. Another step away from this place and the life he'd mistakenly tried to build here.
With a tired sigh, he closed his eyes. His attempt at sleep had been a complete failure. Although, he supposed if he'd gone to bed instead of stretching out on the couch, he might have had better luck.
As he opened his restless eyes one more time, he admitted that it didn't really matter where he tried to rest. His tumultuous thoughts weren't about to let him get any sleep, and now it was too late to keep trying. He had to be at the precinct in a couple of hours.
Natalie. The name continued to infringe on his thoughts as the vision of her precious face continued to play across his mind's eye-haunting him, tempting him with the promise of a happiness he knew could never be.
This morning he had once again stumbled, allowing himself to be drawn in by the stunning lure of her calming warmth, her encouraging faith. It had been too easy to get lost in the soothing depths of her feelings for him, just too easy.
No. Damn it, no! The impassioned rejection resounded in his head as he bolted upright, his feet swinging over the edge of the couch to settle on the floor. With his head in his hands, he cursed his perpetual weakness.
How many times was he going to have this battle with himself? Natalie was part of a dream he knew he would never see come true. What was it going to take to get him to accept that unavoidable reality? The ludicrous fantasy of love and mortality was what had gotten him to this desolate point in the first place-causing yet another innocent's death, and pain and sorrow for those left behind. This rekindled hope was a reckless folly that did nothing but open the door for more anguish. Why did he continue to harbor it?
Nick lifted his head and stared at the metal shutters that blocked out the retreating sunlight. He thought he had it beaten, this inane longing for a life in the sun. He'd banished it. He'd killed it. He was certain he had been successful in extinguishing the flickering light of hope, Elliot's death providing all the will he needed to stifle the resilient flame. But...Elliot's return, his forgiveness, his blinding love had somehow brought new life to the glow of faith, ignited a fresh, clean belief.
"I can't do this!" The fierce denial brutally smashed the deafening quiet that blanketed the room as Nick sprang to his feet, a savage anger with himself rushing forward. He shook his head. "I can't let this happen. I can't."
"Yes, you can."
The gentle contradiction called from behind him, and, for a second, he was transfixed by the sound, his eyes falling shut as he absorbed the shock of once again hearing the young, familiar voice.
Slowly, Nick turned to behold the exact same vision he had seen only a few days ago, the spirit standing next to the elevator door, a bright smile on his angelic face.
"Elliot." There was no numbed disbelief in his tone this time as he acknowledged his visitor. On the contrary, the name rang with the same grateful relief that swept through Nick's heart, his friend's appearance abruptly putting a stop to the struggle raging within him.
She turned the hair dryer off and laid it down on the bathroom counter. Looking back up into the mirror, she faltered as she caught herself, a strange sound filling her ears. An easy smile suddenly stared back at her from the steamy glass, the sound all at once falling into silence. She was whistling. Whistling, for cryin' out loud. The smile grew a tad bigger. She wasn't the whistling kind. Was she? Well, tonight she was. Maybe it was premature, impulsive and foolhardy, but she didn't care. She felt like she had a reason to whistle.
The sensation of a soft warmth rubbing against her shin pulled Natalie's eyes from the mirror. It was time for dinner, and this was her companion's way of reminding her of that little fact.
Reaching down, she ran a loving hand along an arched back, a short laugh leaving her when she heard the impatient meow. "Okay, Sydney. You're right. I'm mooning again." Straightening, she pulled the sash of her pink bathrobe a fraction tighter. "Let's go. I'll feed you before I get dressed."
As if he'd understood her every word, the gray and white cat trotted out of the bathroom toward the kitchen. Natalie found him seated by his bowl, eyes eagerly trained on the cabinet above and to the left of the sink.
As she pulled out the can opener and the cat food, that unfamiliar sound once again registered on her ears. She was being silly, she knew, but she just couldn't seem to help herself.
With Sydney happily eating his evening meal, she walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, her thoughts returning to the early morning hours and Nick's visit to the morgue. The need to get ready for work tapped steadily in the back of her head, but she found it hard to abandon the heartening memory.
She'd relived the kiss more times than she wanted to admit. The sensual recollection sent a renewed thrill coursing through her body, not to mention the pulse of a hungry ache, the beat of her heart increasing every time she recalled his passionate touch.
Mindless fingers ran across parted lips as the memory again wove its silken web of desire over Nat's mind, the dull yearning growing brighter with each second that passed.
Snap out of it, Lambert. Blinking, Natalie broke the spell of the stirring reminiscence. That silly schoolgirl is starting to show her face again, she silently scolded as a defiant smile tugged at her mouth. Oh, but sometimes that schoolgirl had so much fun.
Shaking her head, Nat pursed her lips with good-natured impatience as she reminded herself, yet again, why she felt so upbeat tonight. It wasn't the kiss. Well...okay, the kiss was part of it, but only a small part. The big part was Nick himself, his softening manner, the gaping cracks in his wall of detachment. He was coming around.
She truly believed he was coming around to her way of thinking. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd done to convince him. She wasn't exactly sure if she'd done anything to convince him. At this point, she didn't really much care what was causing the change. If it was her doing, fine. If Nick was somehow working his way through this on his own, even better. If it was a combination of both, terrific.
Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that it was happening. She knew, deep in her heart, he was having serious doubts about leaving. He hadn't said anything to make her feel this way. He hadn't truly done anything specific to make her feel this way either. Nonetheless, her hope for the future had multiplied tenfold over the last twenty-four hours.
Getting up from the couch, Natalie took a deep, satisfied breath. "You can do this, Nick." She spoke out loud with a happy confidence. "You can."
"And what precisely is it, Doctor Lambert, that Nicholas can do?"
The low, icy tone of the invading voice whipped along Nat's spine like an unforgiving arctic blast, the chill running through her body with a fierce quickness as its owner's name registered in her mind.
The initial shock of his intrusion was fleeting, however, and Natalie recovered rapidly, the heat of a building anger helping to thaw the numbness. With a furious scowl tightening her expression, she slowly turned to face LaCroix as he stood by the bay window behind the couch.
"You came back." Surprise entered Nick's voice with the statement. He hadn't expected to see his young friend again, ever.
"I had to." Elliot's smile fell slightly as he spoke, a faint concern showing in his eyes. With his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, he walked to stand on the other side of the leather couch, the concern usurping the grin a little more as he looked up into Nick's face. "You still need my help. I had to come back and help you."
A tender wave of love and gratitude moved over Nick as he read a worried unease peeking through the contentment shining in his visitor's eyes. Elliot's unselfish concern for him never ceased to amaze Nick, even now.
He allowed himself only a moment to savor the gentle feelings before the harsh reality pulled him from their calming embrace, his voice taking on a cold distance when he finally spoke. "There's nothing else you can do to help me, Elliot." A resigned sigh escaped Nick as a sad smile barely lifted the corners of his mouth. "Knowing that you forgive me has eased the pain, some." The half-hearted smirk vanished altogether. "But it hasn't changed the fact that you died because of me, or that I've been deluding myself for the past century with dreams of a shiny new soul and the mortal life that goes with it."
"A shiny new soul? Is that what you want, Nick?" What little of the six-year-old boy Nick still saw in Elliot suddenly disappeared with the questions, that unfathomable maturity taking over.
The surprised challenge in the young voice took him back for a moment before the embarrassment began to set in. And as it did, he was forced to look away from his guest, his eyes falling to concentrate on a black couch cushion. His jaw tightened with the unexpected inquiry. When voiced aloud, the wish sounded even more absurd, the impossibility of his secret desire echoing in his head like a sadistic laugh.
"Yes, I do." Nick admitted, quietly. "I wish I could take everything back, start all over again." The short bark of laughter that left him held no humor, a bitterness for the waste finding its way to the surface. "But it doesn't work that way, does it?" He glanced back up at Elliot, the child's expression still radiating a challenging concern. "One soul per customer. You live, or exist, and die with the one you were born with. No exchanges. I guess I just wish I could clean mine up a little bit, make it more presentable."
"Oh gosh, but you're doing that, Nick. It's not as black as it used to be." The vision joined his host on the other side of the couch, a strong note of resolve in his encouraging words. "But you've got to keep trying. You can't give up now."
The prospect of the first two sentences should have brought Nick some degree of comfort. He hadn't been a complete failure. Apparently, his soul was showing some sign of recovery. The years of deprivation and heartbreak were not a total loss, even though his mortality had yet to be reclaimed. How Elliot knew this, he couldn't begin to understand. However, he didn't question the boy's insight into the condition of his soul. The child's vantage point was greater than Nick would ever expect to achieve. Elliot's word was enough to assure him that his soul was a little lighter, that his struggle over the last hundred years or so hadn't been completely in vain.
But the knowledge didn't give him much solace. He refused to let it. Instead, he allowed the discovery to be overshadowed by the futility reflected in the next sentence the boy had uttered. "...keep trying." But for how long?
The fatigue of the last 100 years suddenly descended on Nick as he asked himself the question. In the end, how much good would it really do? How clean could he get his polluted soul? Surely, it was beyond true salvation? Far beyond. Besides, possible or not, the price was much too high.
A stubborn defiance took hold of Nick as he shook his head. "I can't keep sacrificing mortal lives on the altar of my search, Elliot, a search I can't even be sure will ever end."
"But you're not. I wasn't a sacrifice on that altar. You've got to believe that." A faint desperation tainted the spirit's plea. "Please. Please don't give up. Don't throw it all way."
"Throw what away?" A dark impatience imprisoned Nick in its grasp as he continued, his incredulous eyes remaining locked on Elliot's entreating expression. "The farce? The lie? The false hope?"
He faltered, the anger suddenly cooling as he thought to seek a more concrete reason for this risky optimism in which Elliot tried so hard to make him believe. He took a hesitant step toward the ghostly vision, his voice a hushed wish as he dared a lapse into faith. "Can I become mortal again?" But the hope was ridiculous, and he quickly beat it back into hiding, a light splash of sarcasm biting into the next question. "Can I scrub my soul hard enough and long enough to remove the layers of evil that soil it? Can I redeem myself for the 800 years of bloodshed? Can I?"
"I don't know, Nick. I wish I could answer your questions, but I can't." All of a sudden, Elliot sounded like the young, helpless boy Knight had befriended all those months ago, a stunned bewilderment entering his beautiful brown eyes.
For a moment, Nick let the familiarity touch his heart, a sympathy for the innocent child welling up inside him as he berated himself for the impulsive harshness in his tone. The youthful posture, however, faded almost immediately, a steady conviction creasing the child's brow when he pressed on, seemingly undaunted by Nick's belligerent attitude. "All I know is that you have to keep trying. The only way you're going to find the answers is if you keep looking."
"But without the smallest hope for success, how can I continue to search?" A heated exasperation simmered inside Nick as he turned and stalked to stand next to a steel-clad window, his back facing Elliot while he contemplated the cold, hard metal, like his reality-unyielding, a staunch barrier against the light. A soft sigh left him as he closed his eyes. There were no answers to his questions. So why did he keep asking them? It was all so futile.
"Oh, there's hope." The sound of Elliot's voice grew closer as he joined Nick at the window, his tone light with the positive declaration. "There's always hope, always a chance for redemption, for peace. You have to know that there's always hope."
Opening his eyes, Nick turned his head to look at the boy standing beside him, an encouraging smile tugging at the ghostly mouth.
"The hard part is believing in it, believing in yourself," the spirit continued while his body began a slow levitation until happy, brown eyes were level with troubled blue ones. "The hope is there." Nick moved to completely face his guest, intrigued by the steadfast assurance he was hearing. The child reached out a small hand and, as before, during his previous visit, laid it over Nick's heart. "It's here. The hope is here with me. You still carry it, but you're trying so hard to banish it. Please...don't push it away, Nick. Don't push us away."
Once again, the ethereal contact sent wave upon wave of warm, comforting love rushing through Nick's mind and body, and he could do little else but give himself over to its calming glow, unable to reject the peaceful sanctuary Elliot's devotion afforded him.
As he stood within the soothing embrace, a prudent belief began to settle in his mind, an acceptance of his hope as something more than foolishness, something stronger than uncertainty. With the belief came a revived energy, a renewed strength to face the demons that taunted him. A determination to carry on. The will to keep trying.
A genuine smile curved stoic lips as a rejuvenated possibility filled his head. "So mortality is possible?" The question was not much above a whisper, Nick all but unwilling to break the contented silence.
"Mortality?" A puzzled frown fell across Elliot's face. "I don't know about that." An easy shrug returned the smile. "I guess it's possible."
"But you just said-" Confusion abruptly snatched the fragile contentment from Nick's tentative grasp.
The ghost slowly shook his head. "I said there's hope for redemption if you're willing to work for it."
"Aren't they the same thing?" A shadow of doubt slithered into the back of Nick's mind, threatening his newly gained resolve. How could he be redeemed without the bright soul of mortality?
"Are they?" The child's brows rose with the quick question, the twinkle of a bothersome mischief shining in his eyes. "I'm not sure. Can't you gain one without the other? Can't you polish that dirty soul without regaining your mortality?"
Redemption without mortality? Mortality without redemption? Nick struggled against the unsettling prospects the questions evoked as his eyes slid shut. He'd never really separated the two before now. He'd have to be redeemed before mortality was possible, wouldn't he? He gave himself a mental shake. Of course he would. He had always believed that in order to become human again, his soul would have to be redeemed, cleansed. His mortality couldn't be restored to him without first exorcising the dark evil of the vampire. Mortality meant redemption, plain and simple. Didn't it? It would be a byproduct of the atonement, wouldn't it?
But...did it work that way? After all, he'd already achieved mortality once. Thanks to the drug Natalie found. Humanity hadn't come as a result of a change in his soul, but it hadn't been permanent, either. His journey back into the sunlight hadn't lasted. Nat had told him it was because the virus that caused his condition kept changing and overriding the effect of the drug. But perhaps it was more than that. There had been no true redemption, therefore, there had been no true mortality. To him, it was cut and dried. He shouldn't have been surprised when it ended. There had been no forgiveness.
Quietly, Nick examined the other side of the coin. Could a vampire get his soul clean enough to be redeemed, yet never regain his humanity? No.
He refused to believe in the possibility. If forgiveness came, so too mortality. But...Elliot's question strongly begged the chance of absolution without transformation...and the guide... Nick's thoughts slowed. The guide had told him he still had work to do and had made no mention of mortality. The work would be done in his present state-redemption worked towards as a vampire. What the final result would be, mortality or no, was never breached.
Nat. Nick's heart suddenly ached with the agony of a debilitating longing even as Elliot's touch continued to bathe him in a healing warmth. He would never share a normal life with her.
"So mortality isn't possible." Nick opened his eyes, the flat statement landing on his revived faith with all the weight of his 800-year struggle. His recaptured hope was unceremoniously crushed beneath the unforgiving pressure, and a red mist formed over his eyes, blurring the gentle face before him.
"I didn't say that." The playful sparkle in the boy's eyes was reflected in the grin that continued to grace his mouth. "Anything's possible if you want it badly enough."
"But-" Blinking away the tears, Nick stared into the cheerful expression of his spectral guest, the daze of an ever-increasing mystification clouding his thoughts. Elliot's contradictions were beginning to irritate him.
Once again, the vision hovering off the ground in front of him seemed very much like the six-year-old child he had cherished-full of ideas and thoughts, oblivious to how much sense they did or didn't make. However, as he looked into the smiling, brown eyes that considered him with love, he wasn't so sure if that interpretation was true in this case. There was a knowledge in those eyes, a comprehension. For some reason, he got the distinct impression this happy ghost knew more than he was willing, or perhaps able, to tell him.
Why can't you just come right out and tell me what is and isn't possible, Elliot?
"Because, Nick-" The wisdom of age quickly reasserted itself as the child seemed to read Knight's mind. "I can't do all the work for you. Learning and growing in that knowledge is a part of this too-a part of the redemption. Finding the strength to face the unknown, and the faith to get through the tests that await you are part of the cleansing process. It's all work that you have to do, a destiny that you have to shape."
As before, an unheard voice seemed to call to the boy as his gaze lifted to the skylight, and he nodded. "I have to go now." His attention fell back to Nick. "Promise me you'll keep trying. I want you with me, Nick. Please promise me you won't give up. Promise me."
"How dare you invade my home?" Natalie made no attempt to hide her anger, her voice charged with the same disapproval furrowing her brow. She was mad as hell. The fear...well, the fear was something she refused to acknowledge.
"No, Doctor. How dare you." LaCroix took a step toward his host, a reflection of Natalie's fury evident in the harsh line of his mouth. It wasn't a frown, not really, but it certainly wasn't a smile.
"Get out." Nat didn't take the time to think before she spat out the harsh dismissal, using her anger to beat back the dread that threatened to sweep her away.
"Now that's not very hospitable, Doctor Lambert." LaCroix moved forward another step, the corners of his mouth lifting every so slightly in a tolerant smirk.
Natalie fought the urge to retreat as she looked into the sharp, blue stare of her unwanted visitor. When she felt the edge of the coffee table rub up against the backs of her legs, she couldn't help an inward chuckle. Where the hell am I gonna go?
"Hospitable?" Getting a firmer grip on the anger, she answered the sarcasm with some of her own as she crossed her arms over her chest in a show of hostile separation. Body language wasn't much in the way of protection. As a matter of fact, it was no protection at all, but at the moment, it was all she had. This particular action gave her, however miniscule, a satisfying sense of superior defiance. "You enter my home without an invitation and expect me to be hospitable? You expect a great deal, LaCroix. But then again, I think you know better, don't you?"
"Yes, well, perhaps. The sudden intrusion is unfortunate, but I find it to be very necessary. It appears as though it's time for us to have another...talk." LaCroix's smirk widened a tad with the last word, an amused gleam entering his eyes.
The slightly softer expression should have eased Nat's mind a bit, but it didn't. Instead, it only served to increase her anxiety. As she studied his hard eyes, she knew the grin wasn't the result of a harmless mirth-far from it. A dangerous kind of glee danced in the shimmering depths, and the sight made Nat's skin crawl. LaCroix looked for all the world like the cat that was about to eat the canary, and the canary, of course, was none other than Natalie herself.
The as yet subtle panic began to grow more urgent while Natalie struggled to keep the note of alarm out of her voice. She wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her fear. "We've said all that needs to be said."
Squaring her shoulders in stubborn challenge, she walked to stand at the end of the couch, moving, perhaps foolishly, closer to the intimidating personage towering next the window. She wasn't going to shrink from him. She would face him with all the courage her love for Nick afforded her. This was the enemy. Her enemy. Nick's enemy. There could be no show of weakness, no display of fear, not if there was to be a chance for victory.
As Nat made her stand at the end of the couch, some of that determined courage trickled through her unsteady fingers. For the first time since LaCroix's arrival, she became painfully aware of her state of undress, the fluffy robe the only cover for her nakedness. Raising a hand to the collar of the pink garment, she pulled the fabric closer around her neck as his granite gaze slowly wandered from her face to her bare feet, taking in every curve along its leisurely journey.
The foreboding chill that shot down Natalie's spine radiated throughout her entire body until she experienced the frigid tingle in her fingers and toes. She suddenly felt as though she didn't even have the robe as a barrier against LaCroix's probing stare, his cold scrutiny making her feel as if she'd been stripped bare for all to see. God, but he was an unnerving SOB.
Don't let him do this to you, Lambert. She sought to pull herself back from the debilitating paranoia as she raised her head a little higher and stuck out her chin a little farther.
"Apparently not everything has been said, Doctor. Or perhaps, it's not the words themselves, but the understanding that's blatantly absent." LaCroix's attention returned to Natalie's face, the mocking smile gone, the harshness in his eyes reverberating in the timbre of his voice. "You still seem to harbor the misguided notion that Nicholas needs your help. As I said before, nothing could be further from the truth. All he needs is the love of his creator, his father. My love for him will guide Nicholas back to where he belongs, back to his rightful place. He needs nothing more."
"Love?" A blatant disbelief rang loudly in Nat's voice, the sharp retort ending in a caustic sneer as she recovered some her slippery courage. "You don't love him. You covet him, but you don't love him."
LaCroix's eyes narrowed with the accusation, but Natalie looked past the silent warning as she charged ahead, the need to tell him just what she thought of his so-called love for his son urging her forward. "He's nothing more than a possession to you. A creation to be admired and boasted about. A self-serving toy." The scowl on LaCroix's face grew darker, but still Nat ignored the menacing reaction to her heated incriminations. "If you truly loved him, you would leave him alone and let him continue with his search. You'd help him with the search. What kind of love is it that smothers all that Nick is trying to accomplish?"
"Don't-" The tight-lipped response shot from LaCroix as he took another step closer to Nat, his hands white-knuckled fists hovering at his sides. A hot rage boiled in the icy eyes that looked disdainfully down on Natalie, his low, steady tone a further threat as he continued. "Don't ever presume to tell me how I feel about Nicholas, Doctor. You haven't the slightest idea what he means to me. He is my creation, yes, but he is much more. More than you will ever know. You're only a mortal."
Some of the anger was replaced by a condescending disgust as he granted Natalie her measly humanity, the word 'mortal' seeming to all but stick in his throat.
"You could never understand the bond I share with my son. The connection goes far beyond anything you could possibly imagine. I feel for him more deeply than you have the ability to comprehend. Just because I don't indulge Nicholas in this absurd fantasy of mortality doesn't mean I don't love him. On the contrary, it shows just how much I care. I want to see him spared the pain of disillusionment and failure that this inane search has, and will, cost him. I want what is best for Nicholas, Doctor. And sometimes that is at odds with what the boy wants, or thinks he wants. What kind of love is it that indulges desires that will only result in anguish and disappointment?"
Nat swallowed hard as she mentally kicked herself in the shins. She'd done it again. This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that she'd succeeded, however unintentionally, in irritating a vampire by telling him how he felt. She was quickly discovering it wasn't a very intelligent thing to do, the intense anger that resulted something she would do well to avoid. As her quickened pulse rushed in her ears, she cautioned herself against doing it in the future, if at all possible.
Natalie's eyes left LaCroix's enraged expression to stare out the window into the darkness that now completely covered the city, a faint defeat mocking her as she allowed herself to absorb what he had just said to her.
With a smug satisfaction, he'd trumpeted her ignorance of his relationship with Nick, and the truth of it upset her more than she wanted to admit. Of course, he was right. Damn him. She didn't understand the bond that was shared between a vampire and his master, and she probably never would, short of experiencing it herself. Another shudder slipped along her spine. No matter how curious she was about it, she didn't want to experience it.
Anyway, just because she wasn't privy to that unattainable comprehension didn't mean she was blind. She'd seen and heard some of what LaCroix had done to Nick over the years, and she refused to believe that any of the torment was based in love. How could it be? However...
Nat's attention moved back to her intruder's face. A dull surprise registered in her head as she recognized an unexpected emotion hidden there. Through the anger, through the cold superiority, she saw an anxiety, a dark fear, lurking in his crystalline eyes. Her mind balked at the absurdity of the idea.
LaCroix, frightened? What could he possibly be frightened of?
What, indeed? The ironic cause for his apprehension suddenly hit Natalie right between the eyes. She couldn't help the cynical mirth that gently pulled at the corners of her mouth while she studied the kindred emotion burning in his unwavering gaze.
Losing Nick. The fear of losing Nick. Her own dread stared back at her with all the intense blackness that clouded her heart, and the sight left her dumbfounded. She had something singularly important in common with this ancient enigma. They shared the almost overpowering fear of loss, and both would do anything to prevent that fear from being realized.
Keeping her attention centered on LaCroix's telling expression, Natalie took a deep breath. It was a little hard to believe. She'd suspected, of course. Hell, she'd done more than suspect. Deep down, she'd known, hadn't she? But she'd never expected to see. To actually see this powerful being's fear.
Before, when they'd confronted one another in the loft after Nick's head wound, the only emotion she had noticed in LaCroix was an angry impatience with her interference. Other feelings, if he'd had any, were safely kept from her prying eyes. So too, when he'd visited her in the morgue only a few days ago. Again, she'd only been aware of his anger. Now, the invulnerability he had displayed before seemed to be gone, and she was able to get a slightly deeper glimpse into his heart. There was definitely fear cloistered there. Fear and...
Love? Was there actually love hiding in the shadows with the fear? Could this hardened vampire of almost 2000 years feel deeply enough to love...really love? Oh, he'd said he loved Nick, but Natalie remained dubious as to the truth of the statement until this very minute. As with the fear, she had never thought she would see it, but there it was. A love for Nick so powerful as to conjure a profound trepidation at the possibility of his loss. It was another important thing she and the vampire shared, an undying love for Nick Knight. Or...was it Nicholas de Brabant? Did it really matter?
She and LaCroix...kindred souls? Nat fought hard to keep the hysterical laugh that bubbled up to the surface silent. The idea was beyond ludicrous. But...in an odd way, it was also true. Crazy, but true.
However, there was one very important difference that set them miles, worlds, apart. Their hopes for Nick. In this, they were as opposite as night and day. Alike in some respects they might be, but they were forever separated by what they wanted for Nick, how they wanted to see him live his life. The difference was so great as to never be overcome. She understood, all too well, the love LaCroix held for Nick, but she could never sympathize with the master vampire. The weakness would result in a loss she could never endure.
With his last question, LaCroix had acknowledged Natalie's deep feelings for Nick, and the fact wasn't lost on her. Did he feel any kinship with her because of the love they shared for his beautiful son? Another laugh threatened to erupt from her throat as she thought about the possibility. It was an even more ludicrous idea than that of their being kindred souls.
Giving herself a hard mental shake, Nat quietly belittled the uncomfortable prospect. I must be losing it. There's no other explanation. I'm losing it all right.
"What kind of love is it that indulges desires that will only result in anguish and disappointment?" LaCroix's question repeated itself in her head.
A love that craves fulfillment. Natalie selfishly answered to herself.
If Nick wanted his mortality, then by God, she wanted it more. She wanted him. She needed him. She loved him. She wanted what he wanted, and would do whatever it took to help him get it. The anguish and disappointment were not only Nick's. They were hers as well and worth suffering through if there was only a chance of attaining the goal.
"Enough." The short, biting command made Nat jump as it burst through the deafening stillness that lay thick about the room. LaCroix slowly moved his head from side to side, but the reinforced anger echoing in his voice seemed trained more at himself than at Nat. As if he'd let her hear too much, see too much. "I didn't come here to argue with you about the feelings I hold for Nicholas, Doctor Lambert."
"Then why did you come?"
"I can't be with you, Elliot. I can never be where you are." Nick shook his head as the reigned disappointment hardened his features.
"Yes, you can." Elliot gave a contradicting nod, a rich enthusiasm brimming in his voice. "You just have to keep trying."
Quietly, Nick stood in awe of the positive contentment flowing from the ghost's weightless hand as it continued to rest over his heart. The happy satisfaction mingled with encouraging love to again ease his troubled mind, to halt the cascade of negative uncertainty that further jeopardized his freshly recovered hope.
Could a creature of pure evil make it to heaven? The disturbing question stubbornly pushed its way past the quiet comfort as Nick studied the angelic face that offered so much encouragement. Would heaven ever accept a soul as black as his had been? Because surely that's where Elliot was, safe and secure in God's protective hands, hands that would never allow the murky soul of a vampire to be cradled within their loving grasp. The power of their discerning wrath was all Nick should expect.
Even with time, and by some miracle, redemption, his soul would never be clean enough to join Elliot. Purgatory was, perhaps, the best he could ever hope for when his time finally came, if he could find his way back to judgement at all. Regardless of the outcome of his penance, he and the boy would forever be separated by the choice he made 800 years ago.
However, the child seemed so sure of the possibility of their coming together that Nick couldn't help but ask. "Is there a heaven, Elliot? Can a soul which has harbored the absolute evil that mine has held ever hope to gain entrance? Can I really be with you?"
A precarious frown turned Elliot's mouth as he hesitated, his eyes traveling to the skylight for a few seconds before settling back on Nick's face. "Yes...there's a heaven." Some of the shy doubt left his expression as the frown dissolved into a subtle smile. "And all things are possible with faith. I have faith in you. Natalie has faith in you. Find it in yourself, Nick. Find it and hold on to it as tight as you can. Believe. I'm here to tell you that believing is the right thing to do. It isn't futile. It isn't silly. Believe that the struggle isn't in vain...and keep fighting."
A commanding flood of support and devotion, unlike anything Nick had experienced thus far, suddenly gushed from the spirit's touch. The tender bombardment forced Nick's eyes closed as it washed through him, the intensity of the feelings causing his knees to buckle slightly with its unexpected force. The love was a powerful, living thing that did battle with his last vestige of doubt and fear, beating them back to allow for the reassertion of a bright optimism.
"Promise me, Nick." The boy's quiet whisper echoed in Nick's head. "Please, promise me you'll hold on to the faith. Promise not to give up, to keep trying. Promise me."
Nick allowed Elliot's gentle prodding to have its way with him, the promising love completely usurping any hesitation that continued to lurk in his mind. After a few moments of strengthening silence, he slowly nodded his head. "I promise, Elliot." Opening his eyes, an easy smile curved his lips. "I promise."
"I love you. Always remember." The boy's hand dropped from Nick's chest. "I'll be waiting for you." Backing away with the practiced grace of a bird on the wing, the vision slowly began to fade from sight, but his voice remained vibrant in Nick's ears. "When the time comes, I'll be here waiting for you. Never forget...I love you."
Without Elliot's ethereal touch, the fierce wave of love and encouragement weaken, but it didn't totally disappear. On the contrary, Nick felt it form a small, but valiant, stronghold in his heart. Instead of waging a war of quilt and fear against the precious feelings, he silently offered them a chair and prayed for them to make themselves at home. He had every intention of holding on to them as tightly as he could.
The deep sense of loss that struck him as he watched Elliot's form begin to fade from sight was something he didn't want to hang on to. "Do you have to go?" His voice cracked with a tear of disappointment as he spoke. It was an idiotic question filled with a childish desire for the impossible, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from asking it, hoping against hope that Elliot would tell him no-he didn't have to go.
A fresh, radiant grin lit the spirit's face as he nodded. "Yes, I have to go. But you're gonna be all right, Nick. You are. Just remember what I told you. You're gonna be just fine." And with that, the foggy presence vanished completely.
Nick blinked, confirming that he was, once again, alone, his keen disappointment testified to by the single drop of moisture that slid down his cheek. But the glow of Elliot's tender commitment had a strong foothold, and as he felt its stalwart throb in his heart, the disappointment faded. After all, Elliot was still with him, tucked away safely in that stronghold-its architect and its guardian.
The realization brought a genuine smile to Nick's mouth as he turned to make his way upstairs. His young friend would remain with him forever, a gentle warmth residing in his cold heart, encouraging him and...
I've done it again. The incredulous thought intruded on the optimistic peace, stopping Nick in his tracks at the bottom of the staircase. I've made another reckless promise.
And what a promise-the magnitude of it suddenly striking him as he sank to sit on lower a step, his eyes trained on the floor, but seeing nothing.
The apprehension began a deliberate assault on Nick's conscience, the rekindled doubt growing brighter as he considered his impulsiveness in making the pledge. Could he keep this promise after all that had happened? Could he continue to risk the search with the unknown lurking just ahead of him? Could he keep taking chances with the lives of those he cared about? Could he face the battle for control each new day would bring?
The anxious uncertainty continued to swell while the questions flashed through his head. As the silent interrogation disrupted his thoughts a tender calm rose up inside him and stifled the misgiving, a subtle determination taking its place. He would keep his friends safe. He would face the unknown and survive whatever challenges it held for him. He would see the promise through.
What choice did he have? He wouldn't break his word to Elliot. He couldn't. And besides...
Nick's attention was drawn to the skylight and the darkness that now peered down on him. Which goal offered him the greater reward, the deeper fulfillment-life as a vampire, or a life spent working toward redemption and, perhaps, mortality? Which struggle was worth the pain and disappointment that was sure to accompany it?
If he went back to his life as a vampire, there would be a constant battle with the guilt that existence had always fostered in him. He knew from experience that he could never free himself from it. The need for human blood would be sated, but the condemnation for that satisfaction would be more brutal than ever.
If he went back to working toward forgiveness, there would be the unending fight against the nature of the vampire-the constant craving for human blood. Then, as always, there was the guilt. Even a return to the higher path toward redemption wouldn't relieve the guilt. It hadn't before. No. His journey would continue to be plagued by the shame, his mind invariably vexed by it.
Taking a deep breath, Nick rose from the step. Walking into the kitchen, he pulled open the refrigerator door. The white-labeled bottles sat in two neat rows on the top shelf. Noticeably absent were the familiar unlabeled bottles and the generic plastic containers that always kept them company.
Which struggle offered him more promise? An impatient grin tugged at his lips. Was it really such a difficult question? Even with the possibility of achieving his goals of redemption and mortality still very much up in the air, a life of penance promised him a wealth of fulfillment his existence as a vampire could never hope to afford him. Elliot had told him anything was possible. That knowledge eased the feeling of futility and shored up his sagging hope for the future. Granted, the doubt couldn't be banished completely, and the guilt would never leave him, but their power over him, for the time being at least, had been greatly diminished.
One by one, Nick took the bottles of human blood to the sink and poured them down the drain. Sometime tonight he'd have to get something to replace them.
As he threw the last empty bottle into the trash, the renewed hope was joined by a sweet contentment, the chains of guilt and pain seeming to all at once loosen their stranglehold on him.
With a lighter heart and a clearer mind, he turned and headed back toward the stairs, an unfamiliar sense of happy anticipation putting an unaccustomed purpose in his step. He had to get ready for work, and there were a few stops he wanted to make on the way. The first of which was Natalie's apartment. He didn't want to wait until their shift to tell her of his decision to stay.
It was a silly question. She already knew the answer. He'd come here with more 'suggestions', she was sure. He'd come to warn her away from Nick-again.
"Oh come now, Doctor." LaCroix stood directly in front of Natalie now, his irritation with her a grim mask of impatience hardening his features. "I'm growing weary of the feigned ignorance. You know perfectly well why I'm here. Your interference hasn't stopped. I'd hoped my first visit would have been enough to convince you to mind your own business. But, alas, my hope seems to have been in vain."
The hand at the collar of her robe tightened a little more as Natalie's pulse kicked into a slightly higher gear, the silky threat in LaCroix's tone triggering the fresh alarm that went off in her head. His voice was quiet and even, his words civil and mannered, but the intimidation was nonetheless palpable, his intent clearly visible in his frosty stare.
Nat diligently chipped away at the icy fear that suddenly threatened to paralyze her. If she let it, it would leave her helpless against this more than formidable adversary-but she had no intention of letting it.
Nick. The precious name offered her a quiet reminder of just what was at stake. Recalling his confused surrender yesterday morning at the morgue, and the brightened possibility it represented, effectively shattered the debilitating layer of apprehension forming over her mind. It was going to take a hell of a lot more than LaCroix's silent menace to make her abandon her one true desire, her one true love. This was a battle she had known all along was coming, and she was prepared to fight it. No matter what the outcome. She could do no less than put everything she had into this fight for her happiness.
Lowering her arms, Nat slid her hands into the pockets of her robe with all the casual non-concern she could muster, an obstinate smile coming to her lips. "I'd have to agree with you. Your hope that I'll mind my own business certainly is in vain. Where Nick is concerned, it will always be in vain. He's very much my business until I hear differently from him."
Her response only seemed to give new force to LaCriox's anger as his clear eyes clouded over with the simmering rage. "I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. I thought, perhaps, we could reach some kind of an understanding, but I see now just how foolish that sentimental thinking was."
Stubbornly refusing to be intimidated by LaCroix's anger, Nat stood her ground. "I'm not going to just give up on Nick and walk away, LaCroix. I won't abandon him to you and an existence he hates."
His lips tightened with the defiant words as Natalie watched him continue to wrestle with his ire. "Well-" Taking what looked to be a steadying breath, LaCroix trained a resolute expression on her. The anger wasn't gone. It was just hidden as he continued to speak. "Unlike the last time we had a similar conversation, when I allowed you the opportunity to try to influence Nicholas while he was...unsure of himself, I find I no longer have the desire or the patience to suffer any more of your meddling." Some of the anger peeked out from its hiding place, a harshness seeping back into his tone. "You will leave him alone, Doctor."
Natalie shook her head with slow, firm conviction, her heart a rapid drum in her chest and ears. "No, I won't. I'd die before I'd leave him to you."
It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the truth, and she couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to.
Her rigid refusal appeared to...disappoint him for a moment, but that reaction quickly gave way to another. The smile that crossed his face and entered his eyes was one of pure delight and anticipation.
Taking one more step forward, LaCroix loomed over Natalie, mere inches between them as his hushed voice filled the anxious silence. "Hmm...I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you give me no choice. You see, Doctor Lambert, your death can very easily be arranged." The evil smile vanished, an unforgiving hardness transforming his features as he bit out the next words. "Nicholas is mine. I will see him back by my side."
End Chapter 25